A New Kind of Hunger
by LisOfTheVine
Summary: Katniss is no stranger to hurt; her life is troubled, her family is broken and her reputation is tainted. She needs something to break down her walls, but what happens when that something is a somebody? Will she let herself be happy, or will others stop her from trying? HEAVILY EVERLARK. Rated M for adult content.
1. Chapter 1, the spark

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters found in this story - they were all created by the darling Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

"Katniss, you are being a crazy bitch!" he screams. If he would just come closer, I'd hit him. "So what if I want you to meet my parents? Is that really such a bad thing?"

I jump off the sofa, already feeling the effects of anger-fueled adrenaline. "I don't want to meet your goddamn parents, Gale! I've tried to say it nicely, but obviously you're not listening!" I start to laugh, a little maniacally if I'm honest with myself. "I'm not putting on some charade to make your life that little bit easier! What do you ever do for me?"

"Baby," he says as he lowers his voice. Some might think this is an attempt to soothe me, but I know him too well. He's trying to convert the anger tangibly rolling off his body into sex appeal. "We've been together for two years now. Don't you want to meet them? You're usually complaining that I never act like I care. Is this not showing that I care?" My theory about the whole sex appeal thing is further supported when he strides towards me, eyes smouldering, that smirk he knows I love so much on his face. He thinks he's won this round. He leans in to me, close enough that I can breath in his sharp, cool scent. Close enough for me to kiss.

Close enough for me to physically assault.

I slap him as hard as I can, feeling the raging sting on the palm of my hand.

"Do not use that against me!" I scream. "You don't care, and we are _not_ together!"

I storm out of Gale's dorm room, slamming the door behind me. He is such a prick. I'm so glad that I came to his after the gym, as I'm still in my trainers. Since he picked me up and I don't have a car, I'm going to have to run to my dorm, which is fine by me. Even though my earlier workout was crazy, I could really make use of the angry-energy-fused-with-pent-up-sexual-frustration coursing through my veins.

As I leave the dorm building and pick up the pace, a bunch of freshman guys sitting on the lawn in the quad start catcalling and shouting vulgar things my way. I glance over at the obvious ringleader of the group, a handsome boy with platinum blonde hair and cunning green eyes. He looks so familiar.

"What's up, girl on fire?" he says, snickering with his friends. "Caught anything new yet?"

Ah. He must be related to Glimmer; I knew I recognised the eyes. Glimmer is studying paediatrics, like me. We share most of our lectures and electives and get very similar marks, though I almost always have the upper hand. Maybe that's why she's such a bitch.

"Shut your three year-old mouth," I snap. 'Girl on fire' is the not-so genius nickname Glimmer made up a few years ago when her older boyfriend snubbed her off at the spring mixer and hooked up with me instead. She thinks it's the height of intelligence to spread rumours about me and some sexually transmitted disease I have that burns … well, down there. Of course, I don't actually have anything like that, but one of her evil minions saw me at the pharmacy buying some cream that probably looked like some skin ointment and, soon enough, 'Girl on fire' was the newest torment in her endless repertoire of insults. It makes me laugh to think that, in reality, it was just some lube I later tried out with her ex-boyfriend.

Blonde-dickhead jumps up from the grass and begins to walk towards me. I don't feel physically threatened, but my muscles begin to tense up, just in case he gets too close.

"I'm just messing around, sexy," he says, looking at his friends instead of me. "I mean, you probably do have something in your box that's infectious, but I'd still give you a crack-" is the last thing I hear before I hurtle myself at him, ready to break his face.

Just as I reach him, my fist flying forward to get in a decent punch, a strong hand from around my side grabs my airborne wrist and whips me around so fast that everything becomes a blur. I see a wall of muscled flesh, a tangle of golden hair and orbs so blue they look like sapphires before I'm pushed to the side. As I turn back around to face whoever stopped me from reaching my target, I'm shocked to see the freshman on the ground, blood pouring out of his nose, crying in pain.

What I'm more shocked to see is the specimen standing over him.

The small glimpse I received of the man that pulled me away is nothing compared to what I see now. Perhaps I'm just noticing more because Gale and I haven't had sex in a couple of weeks, but this guy is so hot that even a bloodied little imbecile screaming in pain on the ground cannot capture my attention.

The guy leans down to grab Glimmer's relative by the collar, pulling him up off the floor with ease. He points a threatening finger in his face. "How dare you talk to a lady like that," he seethes.

Despite my confusion and anger, seeing the little shit's eyes pop wide open in obvious fear is enough to keep me silently smiling in the background.

"N-no," he stammers. "I didn't m-mean it, I swear – she's my s-sister's f-friend, it was a j-joke –"

"Didn't look like much of a joke to me," says the stranger. I get a glimpse of his face; he looks murderous. Maybe it's time to intervene.

"Leave him be," I say, stepping forward. "He's not worth it."

Almost immediately, the stranger drops the boy back on the ground. After landing on his ass, the scared-shitless kid jumps up and runs back to his horde. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs.

As soon as he reaches his posse, he turns back around and seems to think he has power in numbers, even going as far as to puff out his chest and stare right into his attacker's eyes. The message is clear – you'll pay for this. But the stranger only has to step forward once for them all to scatter off in different directions, quite obviously terrified.

As the hype of the situation wears off, I'm left with the facts: this guy just completely got in my way and stood up for me like I'm some damsel in distress. As if I need taking care of. All of a sudden, the blind rage I've felt today turns to him. I almost feel like hitting him, but it seems a bit harsh considering he did make me smile, so I opt instead for a dramatic exit, rolling my eyes and jogging towards the other side of campus where my dorm lies.

It's really sort of embarrassing how quickly he catches up to me. I'm quite fast, but he appears out of nowhere, jogging with ease by my side. He clears his throat as if to say something, so I push myself harder, forcing my legs to hit the ground faster and faster until I'm nearly sprinting, but the adrenaline is wearing off and I start to feel fatigued. He stops as I stop and stands in front of me as I catch my breath.

"Look," I say, staring at the ground. "Thanks for whatever that was, but I really didn't need your help. It was nice, but all you did was stop me from doing the same thing you did." I stop talking to catch my breath, but he stays silent; I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the top of my head.

I look up and instantly wish I hadn't. One glance into his ocean eyes and I melt, and he sees it pretty clearly. Needing to get away from the intense heat I feel that has nothing to do with the running, I walk around him and continue on towards my dorm. As I turn the corner into a small passage between two science blocks, I hear his footsteps coming in my direction. Needing to get this over with, I turn around and brace myself for whatever he decides to do. For all I know, he could be some freak-rapist that preys on weak college girls.

He turns the corner and stops when he sees me standing there, waiting for him. We are no more than two yards apart.

"Hi there," he says. And then he smiles so bright that almost forget he nearly killed some kid that was giving be trouble less than ten minutes ago. This guy is simply the most beautiful looking person to ever exist.

More adrenaline begins to pump around my body, but this kind isn't made because of anger; it's there because my brain has sensed I'm about to do something incredibly stupid that requires insane amounts of courage.

Without missing a beat, I grab his white t-shirt with both hands and rip him towards me. The amused shock on his face is the last thing I register before I smash my lips into his. It doesn't take long for him to kiss me back – before I know it, his arms are around my waist, pulling me so close that every inch of my front is touching him. Warmth spreads through my chest as I kiss at his delicious lips; they taste like flour and blackberries. I push him up against the brick wall and force my tongue inside his mouth, hearing him softly moan as I do. The sound is so strange from such a huge guy that I snap out of my stupor.

_What are you doing?_ my brain seems to ask. _Do you think heavily making out with some obviously older guy in the middle of the campus is going to help anything?_

Usually I hate my conscience, but today, she's right.

I push him off me, a little too roughly for him to not understand the clear message – no more. He obliges immediately, but I can see the lust in his eyes. It almost makes me come back for more, but instead, I continue down the passage.

"Don't follow me," I growl behind me. When I step out of the passage, I turn back to see if he's still there. He is, leaning against the wall, apparently trying to breathe evenly. Our eyes meet, and I feel sort of stupid that he's caught me staring after my departure. He smiles and my stomach double knots itself, prior to doing a cartwheel. He is so beautiful.

When I turn back around to keep walking, I hear him shout in a deep, masculine voice.

"The name is Peeta."

I don't turn around to face him. That would be way too embarrassing.

Instead, I smile like a madman the whole walk home.

* * *

**So, that's it for the first chapter! I just needed to get this out ... please, R&R your hearts out. Hope you like it! More to come, based on what people think of it.**

**xxxxxxxx**


	2. Chapter 2, the kindling

Nights like this remind me why I hate pretty people.

I watch from my apartment's tiny kitchenette as my roommate struts from her room at one end of the hall to my room at the other, using the mirror on my door as the endpoint of her makeshift catwalk. She is wearing what can only be described as the sluttiest boots in the history of the world: black leather, knee-high and six inch heels. She looks like a runway model, but I don't tell her this. The last thing she needs is encouragement. I decide to give her the opposite.

"Seriously, Madge?" I whine. "You're going to wear them tonight? Nobody half-respectable wears boots like that – not even on Halloween."

"Well maybe I don't want to be'even half-respectable'," she says, throwing my words back at me in a poor imitation of my voice. "Do you think if I wear these, I might pull tonight?"

I can tell she's joking – not just because she winks and laughs all the way to her room, but also because for Madge to 'pull' would be absolutely ridiculous; she is the biggest prude I've ever met. She's twenty-one today and still a virgin, a real miracle in our day and age. She's an outrageous flirt, but as soon as looking and talking get to touching, she's gone like a bat out of hell. We've only known each other for three years, but we have never really discussed why she doesn't let any guys nibble at the cookie, let alone put their hand in the jar. Maybe it's because she's waiting for the right one. Maybe she's not interested at all. Maybe, over the last three years of hearing me cry myself to sleep, she's learnt from my mistakes.

It's strange, because she's actually crazy beautiful. Probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

_Not compared to Prim_, a small voice says in the back of my head.

I close my eyes as the hurt washes over me, the same hurt I feel whenever I think about her. My baby sister …

"So … how do I look?"

I'm pulled out of my own head by the sound of Madge's soft voice. I glance up to see her in a beautiful magenta-coloured mini dress, pulling at the skirt as if mid-thigh is too short to be seen in public. Her dress isn't half as short as some of the things I see the sophomores wear.

"You look stunning, Madge." I say it and I mean it. Her corkscrew curls and icy blue eyes are made up to perfection whilst still looking effortless. She smiles and walks into the bathroom to apply makeup she doesn't need. Seeing her looking so pretty makes me want to shrivel up into a ball and cry – I would kill to have features like hers. It's sort of silly, because I could have had them; my mother has the exact same eyes, the same hair, and the soft features. I got most of my looks and colouring from my father, being tanned with grey eyes and dark hair. Some boys have called me pretty, but the area I come from had a divide between girls with my features and pretty blonde girls, and the blonde girls were always preferred.

Standing up, I walk down the hallway and observe my own attire in the mirror. It is my solemn belief that you can never go wrong with a pair of jeans; I only have about fifteen of them. The dark wash of the straight cut denim complements my red halter neck and stilettos perfectly. Madge did my makeup just before she got dressed and, although I'm sure she thinks it looks very pretty, it's simply too stylish for me. I'm used to not wearing any makeup at all; she practically had to strap me into the chair to get the stuff on me. Taking in my appearance as a whole should be getting me as excited as Madge is (who is currently singing _Wild Ones_ at the top of her lungs), but instead I long for the taxi ride home later on, which will lead to my fuzzy pyjamas and bed.

"You ready, bitch?" says Madge. She's finished off her outfit with an overembellished pink ribbon embroidered with "21" on her chest. I'm reminded of prize pigs at county fairs, but something tells me saying that to her might be a little rude. We grab our purses and head out the front door, quite poorly imitating Sia in _Titanium_ for no apparent reason.

* * *

This night could not go for any longer.

We're at some seedy bar that's ten seedy miles from our apartment, being rubbed up on my four seedy teenagers drinking seedy beer. One of the dorkier-looking guys makes a pass at me, trying to grab my chest, but I make use of my super-sharp heels and stab at his foot. It distracts him enough for me to yank Madge's arm from around the hottest one's waist and pull her towards the front bar.

"Drinks, please!" I near-scream, but the bartender isn't paying any attention. I consider using my heel for a second time by taking it off and throwing it at his head, until he turns my way, lust and confusion sweeping his face. I notice two things about his eyes; the first is that they are an exquisite shade of green– the second is that they aren't actually looking at me, but at the spot next to me and, when I follow his gaze, I expect to find Madge near-passed out with her head on the mahogany surface. Instead, I find Madge with her whole body on the mahogany surface, dancing her ass off to a crowd of horny dickheads at her feet.

"MADGE!" I shout, but she can't hear me because she's so wasted. I use some acne-riddled loser who is practically drooling over her as a support to hoist myself onto the bar so I can slowly take Madge down and get her some water. As soon as I get up, she manages to collapse down into the horde of men, who eagerly catch her. I almost fly off the bar to hit one guy that's trying to grab her ass, but then one of Madge's classmates that came out with us slips into the mess and steers Madge towards the ladies' room. Annie, I think her name is. She seems sweet enough, but I'd really prefer to check on Madge myself. I make to step onto the barstool, but I meet some resistance.

Shit. My heel has made a hole and is stuck in the bar.

I quickly unstrap myself from the death trap of a shoe, jump off the bar and yank the heel out, leaving a small dent in the surface.

A woman in her mid-thirties comes rushing at me. I wonder why, until I see that she has "Manager" embroidered on her shirt that bears the bar's name …

"Excuse me!" she shrieks. "That's mahoga –"

"Effie, chill out. I'll take care of it."

I turn to face my rescuer; it's the bartender with the nice eyes. Effie huffs and turns back towards the entrance, and I can almost see her shaking with rage. Oops.

"I'm really sorry …" I begin to green-eyes, but he cuts me off with a shrug and an overly confident smile.

"It's okay, really, Effie is just crazy. What's your name?" he asks and, figuring he probably did just save me having my hair ripped out, I tell him.

'Katniss?" he asks. "That's a pretty weird name, but mine's Finnick, so there you go. Want to come outside for a smoke?"

Wow, do I ever. I look around for Madge and Annie, but decide that they're probably okay and can survive without me for ten minutes.

* * *

As we step outside the front entrance and light up against the brick wall, I take in the guy beside me. Technically speaking, he's hot. Perfect, even … but it's so obvious that he knows it and, although that sort of thing used to turn me on, seeing it now brings up no feelings except slight disgust. He fills out his shirt pretty well, but he smells too strongly of scotch and vodka for me to bear right now, so I take a small step back.

"So, Katniss," he says in an ultra-flirty tone between drags, but the look in his eyes tells me that he's just being nice, not trying to get in my pants. "What's the story with your friend? She's a massive babe, even drunk and dangerous."

I roll my eyes at Finnick's desire for Madge. He seems like the type to fool around with a girl and then bail, a tactic totally useless in the pursuit of getting to know my roommate. "We room together. She's a lesbian."

"I don't believe that even for a second, Miss Katniss," he says with a smirk, but he looks over my shoulder and says, "Well, maybe she is …"

I turn around and find Madge stumbling out of the club doors with both arms around a slightly stunned Annie, kissing her cheeks and making a big drunken idiot out of herself. I fling my cigarette into the gutter and stride over to them, vaguely registering Finnick greeting some guy that just walked around the corner. I lift Madge off Annie's body and rest her against the wall, where she immediately slumps to the ground. I try to lift her up but, despite my relative strength, she just won't budge.

"Katniss, need any help there?" I hear Finnick shout to me, but I continue trying by myself anyway. I've almost managed to pick her up when I inhale what smells like cologne, cinnamon and flour. Not a second later, a large pair of calloused hands gently pushes mine aside and picks Madge up as if she was as light as a loaf of bread. I stand to protest this random man trying to feel up my friend, but one look into his clear-sky eyes and words fail me.

It's him. Mr. Beautiful.

_Peeta_.

It takes him a second to recognise me (which I completely blame on the horrendous amount of makeup caked on my face), but then his eyes meet mine and I can see he knows. He smiles that adorable smile and I feel a widespread surge of sensations through my body; my cheeks flush, my arms get goosebumps, and there's a sudden absence of blood around my tummy area.

Great. Butterflies.

"Hey," he breathes, a slight chuckle falling from his lips at the overbearing awkwardness of the moment. Not three weeks ago, we were up against a wall having the best kiss of my life and he didn't even know my name.

I decide indifference is the best (and if I'm honest with myself, only) card I have to play. I nod my head in his direction whilst checking Madge's breathing, which has escalated to snoring in a not-so-ladylike fashion.

When he doesn't move an inch for over thirty seconds, something that he should be doing in slight discomfort with a 110-pound girl in his arms, I move my gaze up to his and instantly regret it. He still wears that adorable smile, but his dimples are nowhere to be found and his eyes have a hidden message I can't decode. They're showing some emotion … it almost seems like hurt.

"Katniss, is it? So now I know which name to write on my lawyer's statement."

"What?" I screech. "I didn't ask you to hit anybody!"

He smiles big again, despite my threatening glare. "I don't mean for the physical assault, I mean for the sexual assault. But seriously, I'm kidding. Just wanted to see if I could get you to talk. Now, what do you want to do about your friend? Because as much as I'd like to stand here talking to you all night, this third-wheel is sort of bringing my game down."

I stare at him in shock for a number of reasons. Me, sexually assaulting him? How absurd. And trying to get me talk to him, acting as if we're friends or something … but the biggest reason is that, in the absence of violence and sexual tension, his voice is deep but rich, like hot chocolate.

Words have failed me again.

We stand there for an awkward moment or two before I hear a loud crunching sound, followed by a masculine and feminine yelp of pain. I turn my attention to the direction of the commotion and find myself staring at the most bizarre sight in a night of bizarre sights; Finnick leaning against the brick wall of the bar, blood pouring out of his nose, and sweet, frail Annie supporting her already-bruised fist.

Peeta, still carrying Madge in his arms, asks the bouncer for assistance in hailing a taxi. A few seconds later, the cab has pulled up to the curb and Peeta is softly placing my best friend in the back seat.

"Annie," I call out, understanding that he's trying to get us out of here before anybody asks too many questions, "We should probably go home and get you some ice for that hand. I'll text the others and let them know where we are." She looks at me with pain and anger in her eyes, but her speed towards the cab makes me think she's happy to bolt rather than go for round two with Finnick. She gets in besides Madge and shuts the door, leaving me to the front seat. I'm about to open the door when Peeta does it for me, holding it wide enough for me to slip in. I wait for him to shut it, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans down so we're at eye-level with each other. He's probably already figured out the effect his eyes have on me.

Without breaking my gaze, he puts his arm inside the taxi and hands a few bills to the driver.

"Take care of these girls, and keep the change," he says. Gesturing to me, he says, "Give this young lady here whatever you decide you don't want."

This is probably the weirdest statement I have ever heard, but before I can ask him what he means, he uses his fingers to tilt my chin upwards and gives me a light peck on the lips. It's suggestive and presumptuous and inappropriate, but when he pulls away, I find myself thoroughly disappointed with its duration.

"Until next time, Katniss," he whispers and, with that, he gently shuts the door, prompting the driver to speed off into the night.

* * *

After a few words to direct the driver to our apartment, we pull up outside the complex and I silently give thanks for the fact that the building has an elevator. As the driver is sifting through the money, I catch a glimpse of at least two fifty-dollar bills. It's more than enough to pay for the ride and, knowing the shitty wage that cab drivers are paid, I open the door without expecting anything from him. Unstrapping my shoes and placing them under my armpit, I open the back door and haul Madge out, barely being able to support her limp frame. If it wasn't for her chainsaw-like snoring, she could be confused as a dead person.

Annie and I begin to shuffle up the path, supporting Madge on either side, and I've almost put the key in the building when I hear a horn beep. Turning my head around, I see the cab driver standing at the door of his car, calling me back over.

I help Annie settle Madge onto the stone steps and run back to the driver, ready to scream the neighbourhood down if he asks for more money. Instead, he hands me a scrap of paper, mumbles something about definitely not wanting _that_, and gets back in his car. As he takes off, I move under the streetlamp and look down at the scrunched-up slip. Not finding anything, I turn it over and almost faint. I find a phone number, along with a short message:

_Call me. Peeta xxx_.

I slip it into the back pocket of my jeans and, before I know it, Annie and I have lifted Madge through the doors and into the elevator. I spare a glance down at her right hand that has swollen and discoloured to a nice shade of purple.

"What happened there?" I ask. She smiles, and it's only then that I notice how kind and pretty her face really is.

"He tried to kiss me, so I socked him in the face," she explains. I stare at her in horror for about two milliseconds until we both burst out laughing.

When the elevator reaches our floor and we are down the hall and into the apartment, we flop Madge on her queen-sized bed, taking off her beautiful designer dress just in case she pukes on it. Annie says she'd like to stay with her to keep an eye on her, so I find her some of Madge's pajamas and say goodnight.

As I enter my room, I pull out the slip of paper. Without thinking, I reach for my phone and immediately punch in the numbers. When it starts to dial, I can feel my heart trying to escape from my chest.

The dialling stops and there's an answer, but after a few seconds I realise that the phone must have been answered by accident, like in somebody's pocket of their pants. I can hear some sort of commotion, followed by some heavy breathing. I almost hang up, and then the worst sound possible comes out of the speaker. A woman's soft moan, followed by whispers. I can't make out any words, except one loud cry that echoes through the speakers and throughout my room.

"Oh, Peeta …" says the moaning woman.

Oh, Jesus. It hasn't even been an hour since I saw him and I called him, but even worse … it hasn't even been an hour since I saw him and he's _having sex with someone. _I hang up immediately and drop my phone to floor out of total shock. Climbing into bed still wearing my clothes from the night out, it takes me a long time before I can get to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3, the foundations

**Thank you so much to everybody that has left some reviews/comments for me. They make me want to update more often, so please, keep them coming! I'd really like to hear anything you guys might have to say, such as what you think of my chapter lengths, the storyline, even how the characters are. I love everybody that has followed, favourited or reviewed this for me, it's amazing, and to all the guest reviewers, PLEASE sign up so I know who you are and can chat to you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; they all belong to Suzanne Collins.**

As I walk into the classroom, I feel the eyes of some people sitting in the front stare in my direction. They're a bunch of girls and guys my age in the same complicated study course as me, but they still manage to be some of the most stupid people I've ever met. Most of them are from old money, which I privately suspect has something to do with their enrolment here, let alone their ability to gain entry into one of the most challenging courses on offer. There are a few, though, that actually have a brain cell or two.

Like Glimmer.

She's seated in the middle of them all, flicking her blonde hair and smiling with perfectly painted lips. Although I hate her, even I have to admit that she's pretty. Gale pretty much drools over her at every opportunity he gets.

Shit. Gale.

I haven't spoken to him since I stormed out of his house, which was almost a month ago. He's probably been expecting me to come crawling back to him, complete with some new sexy lingerie and a gushy apology. He's a dick, but to expect that would be fair since it's what I usually do. But something has changed all that.

_Or someone,_ says my bitch of a brain.

I feel where my mind is going before I can stop it, and then the exact colour of Peeta's eyes is flashing through my brain and then the feel of his lips and his hands and his voice, and I ride out the high of his memory before it comes to a shattering stop when I remember the girl moaning over the phone.

It's all over in a second, but the misery that grips me is all consuming.

_Still can't think about him without turning soppy_, continues the masochistic organ inside my head. _You're pathetic_.

"Katniss? Would you like to take your seat now, please?"

I look around, only to realise I've been vacantly staring at my lecturer for the past minute or so, not having moved an inch. At least I'm one of his favourites; otherwise he might have mistaken me for a fool. Which I am.

Fucking daydreams.

"Sorry," I mutter, before quickly walking to my regular seat at the back of the room. A bunch of snickers from the group at the front ring loud at my embarrassing moment, but I barely notice. I'm just glad that they didn't decide to create a scene of their own and trip me up on my walk to my desk.

* * *

As I'm packing up my books two hours later, a high, piercing voice echoes out my name.

"Katniss?" Glimmer shouts in her bitchy voice. "Darling, are you okay? I was so worried about you for a second there! You looked positively dreadful. But, then again, you always do, so maybe it was nothing to worry about at all."

She smiles wide, seeming to believe she's won something over me, but I simply cannot find it in me to care enough to break her surgery-fixed nose. I smile back and turn back to my book bag, vaguely registering the ear-splittingly loud mindless chitchat that continues in the front row.

"Who does she think she is …"

"Glimmer, baby, don't worry about it …" says the biggest guy of the gang.

"Cato, just because you want to fuck her …"

"I just bought these cute boots the other day, I'll show you a picture …" says an Asian girl with obvious breast implants, handing Glimmer her phone.

"Dude, you should've seen this crazy drunk bitch at the bar on the weekend …" says Marvel, a guy I used to date.

It continues as I walk past them on my way out the door.

"Her ass is bangin'," whispers one of the guys that's name escapes me.

"Peeta and I had the best sex on the weekend …"

My head snaps around to find the soft voice that spoke those words. I cross out Glimmer and fake-tits, leaving two girls in a huddled conversation. One of them is Enny, a girl who shouldn't be allowed to talk due to the pure idiocy of the things she has to say. The other I don't know, but the smirk on her face locks in my realisation.

This college is too small for her to mean anybody else other than the beautiful man I'm picturing in my head.

This is the girl on the phone.

"Oh, Cas!" Enny squeals. "That's great! I'm soooooooo jealous. He's a dream!"

"Oh yes, he is," Cas replies. She goes to speak again, but she must sense my eyes on her, as she turns to face me with a raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you, slut?" she near-bellows, earning her a shriek from Enny and a few muffled laughs from everybody else. It's so obvious that she's saying this purely for the benefit of her friends, because although she initially seems to hold her ground, a look of fear enters her eyes when she takes in my thunderous glare. No doubt she's heard about what I did to Mary Stanbridge last year when she called me a whore at a football game; it's become something of an urban legend. Her nose has never looked the same.

I feel like smacking her over the head, but I'm still shocked after learning that she is the mystery girl I've hated over the past week. Seeing her now, realising that she is nothing more than a member of Glimmer's posse, makes me feel both thoroughly refreshed and utterly disappointed. She's no threat to me in terms of brainpower, and her body resembles that of a spindly stick figure … yeah. We are nothing alike, something I am grateful for.

But if that is Peeta's type …

I let it go and strut towards the door feeling pretty dejected, until I hear Cas burst into tears. It's just enough to bring a smile to my face.

* * *

As soon as I get home after class, I rip off my clothes, hop into my gym gear and run straight out the door. I don't know why I start running instead of taking the car to the gym; I usually get embarrassed running around the campus, preferring to be in an enclosed area with a bunch of people who know nothing about me.

I continue to ponder this mystery, until I find myself in the quad that is bordered by Gale's dorm. The quad where I watched Peeta nearly Hulk-Smash some little shit, all in the defence of _my_ honour.

Wow. I'm in so deep.

I collapse on the grass, not three feet from where Glimmer's brother sat with his friends and taunted me. Why didn't I act faster? Why did I stop to try and sort him out? Why did he have to say anything at all? Maybe, if he hadn't, then I would've never seen Peeta in the first place. He would have walked on by, with maybe a sidelong glance at my lack of suitable attire, and never thought about me again. I probably wouldn't have even looked at him.

It's been about half an hour before I hear footsteps approaching, the first set I've heard this whole time. I glance to my left and see none other than Gale, walking towards me with a guilty look on his face.

"Okay, Kat," he begins. This annoys me; he knows better than anyone how I hate having my named shortened. "You don't have to sit out here in your sexy gym clothes looking all glum. You can come to my room now. I'm sorry."

Shit. He's probably been watching me from his window, thinking that I wanted him to come out and see me.

I get up, brushing some bark off my pants. He is such an arrogant prick.

"Actually, Gale, I'm not here to see you." Even though it's the truth, it sounds stupid coming from my lips, and completely unbelievable. This dorm is on the other side of campus, definitely not an area where anybody else I know stays; why else would I be in here? Even I can't answer myself.

Looks like I'm going to have to lie after all. "I'm … seeing somebody else."

"You're WHAT?!" he shrieks. This takes me so aback that my eyes nearly pop out of my head. What the fuck?

"Since WHEN?" he continues. "Didn't take you long to move from one dick to another, did it?"

"Gale, that's not what I mea-"

"You bitch! You heartless bitch! How could you do this? Go from fucking me three times a week to fucking someone else?"

Even though my lie was meant to suggest I was seeing a friend that I had recently made and most _definitely_ not a guy I was fucking, his harsh and confusing words kick my defences in place.

"What do you mean, heartless?" I say, almost on the verge of tears. "You've been acting so weird lately! I've wanted to be more than your fuck buddy for _ages_, but you always pushed me to the side! We are _not_ together! We never were! You made that very clear!" My voice begins to crack, but I don't even care. "You can't just possess me without giving anything back..."

He looks utterly heartbroken at my words, but they are so true that it's almost liberating to speak them.

"I've moved on from your games, Gale. I deserve better. And this other guy? He's not just a friend-with-benefits. He cares." My words ring true for the first part, but falter at the lie. He notices.

"And who is this amazing new guy, Katniss?" he asks, emphasising the last letters of my name in a hiss.

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

"I'll call him right now. Want to speak to him?" I seethe, knowing he'll back down when I offer hard evidence.

Gale smirks, and I know what he's going to say before he does. "Sure."

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

_Confidence is key,_ my brain whispers_._ If I pull out now, he'll know I'm bullshitting him.

I smile politely back, flicking through my recent calls. He knows the limited amount of guy friends I have and would recognise their names in a heartbeat. I consider calling a random number and praying they don't pick up or have voicemail, but the odds aren't in my favour.

And then I come across a number with no name attached, but a number I instantly recognise. I take a gamble and press the call button.

It takes about four rings before the phone is picked up and a deep, soothing voice is purring through the speaker.

"Hello?" he asks.

"Hey … baby," I begin. "It's Katniss." As if my boyfriend wouldn't have my number … shit. I quickly cover up the mistake. "Sorry, my number is blocked right now." I pray that he remembers my name.

"Katniss? Kat- hey! Hey, how are you?" he says excitedly, and I nearly collapse in relief while Gale's neck stiffens in front of me.

"Yeah, just wanted to call and tell you I miss you …" I say.

There is no reply for a few seconds, and I feel so embarrassed that my whole body flushes a beautiful, radiant shade of tomato.

"Um … yeah, I … miss you, too." He says, but the end of his sentence sounds more like a question. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm in the quad where we met," I reply, letting a dreamy look take over my face for Gale's benefit. "Out the front of Scarborough Hall. Just about to jog home. I just wanted you to talk to my frie-"

"No!" He shouts over the phone. "No! Don't go anywhere! I'll be right down. Stay there!" And the line goes dead.

I stare at my phone in horror for at least twenty seconds before I look up at Gale, vaguely notice that my hands are shaking. "He's … coming here. Now."

And just like that, Peeta bursts out of a dorm on the other side of the quad and jogs to where I stand.

_Confidence! Conviction!_ my brain screams, going mental to try and get my muscles to act. _Don't let Gale see the lie!_

Just before Peeta's feet touch the grass, I start sprinting towards him and barely register his expression of shock before I leap into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, and crush my lips to his.

I feel about a millisecond of doubt on his behalf before he wholeheartedly responds to my kiss, coaxing my mouth open with his tongue before pushing it in. I forget Gale, I forget why I'm doing this, I forget my own name.

I pull away and take in his cheek-hurting grin, sure that my own is almost a mirror image. Jumping down from his torso and turning around, I'm surprised when he pulls my arm back and steps in front of me, wrapping a protective arm around my body. I glance at him in confusion, until I see where his eyes are directed.

Oh.

Gale's standing there, and he looks pissed. I already know Peeta to be chivalrous from our last encounter in this very same place, and Gale's anger is enough to sense from a mile away. If anything was going to seem a threat, it's the tall, dark man glaring down on the two of us with the death stare to end all death stares. If looks could kill …

"So this is the guy, eh?" Gale spits. "The first guy in the world willing to put up with your crazy shit?"

I step forward, both to argue back with an equally angry comment and to stop Peeta from talking and revealing the lie, but before I can say anything, Peeta speaks up.

"Yeah, that's me," he bites back, with rage practically rolling off his skin. "And you are?"

Gale smiles. "I'm the guy that's been making her moan for the past two years."

Peeta's reply is quick and snappy. "Not anymore, mate. Now piss off. Katniss is looking way too good right now for me to pass up the opportunity to take her to my room and show her how a real man fucks."

Woah.

Gale steps towards us, his fists clenching up. Using all the strength I have, I push Peeta behind me and stare up into Gale's eyes.

"It's over, Gale. Now go."

He glares at me, and for the first time in the past two years, I barely notice our height difference. He may be over a foot taller than me, but it feels like so much less right now. Like we're equal.

He must sense it too, because his face shows a small glimpse of hurt before turning to full-blown anger. He storms off in the direction of his dorm, not looking back once.

Wow. That really just happened.

I actually ended things with Gale.

I turn around and find Peeta staring at me. A terrible fear begins to consume me, a fear that this whole ordeal has traumatised him and made him realise I'm a headache with way too much baggage to carry.

He smiles. I melt.

"Katniss, I think we might need to have a private chat," he says, grinning from ear-to-ear and making me weak at the knees. "You've got some explaining to do."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! I'm thinking about writing the next chapter through Peeta's eyes ... let me know what you think about that. Remember, the more you review, the faster I write!**


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